


hold my hand?

by flooded_in_the_sky



Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Angst, Blood, I'm not sure what else to tag?, M/M, Some Fluff, Tags May Change, i'm sorry in advance, let me know if I forgot anything, mild violence, there isn't any real graphic violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-08 19:16:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11088171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flooded_in_the_sky/pseuds/flooded_in_the_sky
Summary: basically what I imagined happening if something went horribly wrong after the rally. I need to stop going down these emotional rabbit holes. and yes, I did cry while writing the ending. if you want to cry even more like I did, I recommend listening to Oh, Ms. Believer or Implicit Demand for Proof, both by twenty one pilots while reading. order doesn't matter.





	hold my hand?

The night before the rally, Race was nervous. He knew nothing would go wrong, but at the same time, he couldn’t help but fear what would happen the next day. Especially after what happened at the strike, he knew that this was their last chance. This was the last chance of the newsies all over New York to show that they wouldn’t be stepped on anymore. That they were equals. There was one definite plus to the misgivings and worries the rally brought. Spot had managed to sneak out of Brooklyn for the night, telling the rest of his boys he had business to attend to in order to be ready for tomorrow. That business happened to be falling asleep next to Race for no other good reason than the fact that they wanted to. 

“Okay, that’s enough of the funny stuff. We should get to sleep.” Spot said seriously.

“Is everything okay? I mean, I know we’ve got the rally tomorrow, but everything’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just worried about the boys in Brooklyn. I’m hoping I left the right person to hold down the fort.” That was a lie. Spot was nervous, too. Way more nervous than he should have been. 

“Spot, hold my hand until I fall asleep. Please.” Spot rolled his eyes, but smiled softly and took Race’s hand. 

“Tomorrow’s a big day,” Spot said quietly. “Are you and the others ready?”

“That depends. Is Brooklyn?” Race asked seriously. Any other time, Spot knew he’d have a cocky grin on his face. But this was the biggest thing either of them had been ever a part of. Would ever be a part of, maybe. 

“Yeah. We’re ready.”

“Then we are, too. We can take ‘em. Show ‘em who they’re messing with,” Race yawned. A few minutes later, he was dead asleep. Spot kissed his forehead before moving over on the fire escape. The newsies were ready. So why was there a looming feeling that something would go wrong? 

_ Jack knows what to do. He said it himself, we’ve all got a lot riding on this. Nothing’s going to go wrong. They’ll see we’re a force to be reckoned with.  _ As he fell asleep, Spot kept reassuring himself. He kept playing those same thoughts through his head on repeat.  _ Everything is gonna be fine. _

 

Nothing was fine. The rally had gone horribly wrong. Jack hadn’t shown up at first, and when he finally did, it was only to turn on the union and run. After that, the crowd of boys was about as organized as a herd of cats. There were screams and yells and blood on the floor of the theater, and Race felt bad for Medda. She’d let them use this place for free, and now she’d have serious damage to take care of. He thought it couldn’t get any worse, until the scabs showed up. They were beating boys up left and right, and Race swore he heard gunshots at one point. He hoped they hadn’t gotten to Spot, that the leader of Brooklyn had found a way out of here, away from the fighting. But despite his hopes and prayers, he knew Spot would be in the thick of it, swinging punches to rival the scabs’ hits. And then as soon as they arrived, they were gone, leaving disaster in their wake. Race heard a slew of swears leave somebody’s mouth, quickly followed by cursing Pulitzer and the next several generations of his family. It was quieter now, only because kids were trying to pick themselves up and get out of there. People had died. Not many, but they had. Race was going to leave himself when a small boy with a thick accent and dirt all over his face grabbed him and said, “Spot needs you.” 

“Well, we don’t got all day, kid. Where is he?” Race asked, hoping the fear in his voice wasn’t as obvious as it seemed. 

“Over here,” The boy said, wading through a tight crowd, and when he stopped, Race saw the one thing he feared most. Spot was lying on the floor, blood darkening his shirt all over.

“Oh, God, Spot. Didn’t I tell you the one thing you ain’t supposed to do is get yourself killed?”

“I don’t recall hearing that out of you,” Spot said tensely, wiping blood away from his mouth. 

“Is there anything we can do? Can’t just let you bleed out without trying to do something,” Race quickly took off his vest and began ripping a part of the waist off, trying to hold back sobs.

“It’s no use, Race. Put your shirt back on,” Spot tried to smile, but it soured into a grimace of pain. Race got closer to the floor.

“I’m so sorry, Spot. I’m so sorry,” he whispered, and Spot nodded a bit.

“Not your fault. Hey, can you do something for me?”

“Anything.”

“Can you hold my hand? While I fall asleep?” And Race could hear the fear in Spot’s voice.

“Yeah. Yeah, I can,” Race said tearfully. “Do you know how much I love you? It’s bigger than the whole of New York, you know?” Race whispered. “Remember the night you kissed me first? It was pouring down rain and we were half-drunk and I turned to look at you and then-” Race stopped. Spot's hand was limp.

**Author's Note:**

> something I feel is worth mentioning is that the google doc I wrote this in is titled "suffering™" because I knew what I was getting into. somebody was gonna die. thank you for reading this over-emotional little bit of word trash I came up with at midnight. it's literally midnight. I need to get some sleep.
> 
> edit: I'm sorry I made you suffer but thank you for all the comments! if there weren't so many I'd have responded to each but I wanted to let you guys know I saw them and I'm grateful.


End file.
